Author's Note: Ok, this thing has been somewhat AU ever since "Free Agent" aired, but it's gong way AU in this chapter. Chapter 6.

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"Sydney--"

"Syd--"

I raise my hand and silence both of them. That argument won't get us anywhere.

As I look back and forth between the two men I cannot live my life without, my father's words come back to me. Head, Sydney, not heart. It kills me, but my father was right.

But not in the way he thinks. You don't ignore your heart to follow your head. You use your head to spare your heart. This is the riskiest thing I've ever done (and that, believe me, is saying a lot), but I'm about to prove I am my father's daughter.

"Neither, Sark. I'm not taking either of them."

"That's not our deal, Sydney. Don't play heroics. You're keeping one, and I'm keeping one. Now choose."

"I have chosen. You can keep both of them, Sark. I don't have any doubts about their ability to handle you." Sark gives me a sarcastic snort. "I want something else. Your associate over there hurt a very good friend of mine," I see Vaughn go pale, "and tried to take the artifact from me. He wouldn't give up until I pulled on his facemask. Keeping his identity secret was more important than getting the Rambaldi. So, if I give you the statue, I want to see your lackey's face."

Sark looks more startled than I've ever seen. He and the lackey look at each other, though I imagine it's hard to exchange glances from behind that mask. My father looks as if he's about to make a move, but the lackey moves the gun sideways, into his line of vision. My father relaxes. Vaughn is just watching the whole exchange with this heaven-help-me-I'm-dating-a-Bristow look on his face.

After a long moment, Sark turns back toward me, his self-assurance and unflappable demeanor back in place. "Very well, then. Give me the statue."

"No. You first."

To my surprise, he acquiesces. He steps over to his associate and takes the gun from his hand, keeping it trained at my father's head. His associate steps back to the right, on the far side of my father, giving me an unobstructed view as he reaches up and pulls off the mask.

The Rambaldi statue drops from my hands. I slump back against the wall behind me. This isn't real; this can't be real. I'm hallucinating -- there is just no way I'm actually seeing what I think I'm seeing.


"Francie?"